


Drawn To You

by Acureformyboredom



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s03e12 The Western Air Temple, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Kataang - Freeform, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Child Abuse, Pining Zuko, Protective Zuko (Avatar), Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Western Air Temple, zukka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-09-05 11:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16809757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acureformyboredom/pseuds/Acureformyboredom
Summary: Sokka is resentful of his soulmark, as well as of his soulmate.





	1. Dream Safely

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first ever Fanfiction, so please go easy on me! With that being said, don't be afraid to comment and give me some constructive feedback. I am really hoping to improve my writing, so it would be much appreciated! I hope you enjoy this first chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the world they live in.

He looks out at the vast ocean in front of him, admiring its stillness. The quiet breeze surrounding him feels warm and comfortable against his bronze skin. The beautiful red sand beneath him tingles pleasantly between his bare toes and he finds the slight burn of it familiar and soothing. He turns his head to look up at the sky, and admires the soft grays, oranges, and dusky pinks bathing the lifeless land around him as well as the small tufts of cloud above him. The light tinting everything a colour similar to that of a summer sunset. He’s brought out of his thoughts by the sound of something heavy landing gracefully on the warm earth beside him. He turns in the direction of the noise, and looks up apon a beautiful creature that towers over him by several meters. When it lowers its head peacefully in front of his, the young tribesman reaches out slowly and rests a strong but gentle hand on the scaly creatures snout. The magnificent beast closes it’s slit eyes in a way that seems to both express its relaxed state and its gratitude for the young man's affection. A smile finds its way to his lips upon hearing the accompanying huff of confirmation from his magical companions nose. When the friendly beast reopens its eyes, a wash of comforting warmth surrounds him. He feels safe here. Something he hasn’t truly felt since he was last in his mother's embrace many years ago. 

“Sokka,” a low rumble comes from his companion, but its mouth stays firmly shut. To the Water Tribe boy, the voice is somehow foreign but familiar simultaneously.

“ Hhm?..” he hopes the noise is enough to encourage the creature to continue. His hand continues to lay on the smooth scales of the beasts nose, rubbing careful, delicate patterns.

“Sokka, it is time for you to wake.” At this the tibesman reacts abruptly, his hand retreating quickly as if burned. He looks up at his large friend with wide eyes, pleading.

“No! I don’t want to go, I want to stay, I want to stay with you,” He begs, “I can’t go back. I want to stay!” He feels desperation rise in his chest, he can also hear it in his voice.

“No Sokka, you must go.” the large beast spreads its wings wide, and rises to its full height once more. “Do not cry my young warrior, we will meet again soon.” With that, the creature takes flight with a great push of his wings. Sokka, just realizing his wet cheeks, falls, with as loud sob, to his knees in the sand that seems to only burn painfully now.

....... 

With a jolt, Sokka wakes panting, he reaches up to rub his face, and feels wetness cling to his palms as he pulls them away. He’s crying, again. As it finally registers where he is, the tribesman looks frantically around the gaang’s current campsite to see if he had been caught crying like a child. Luckly, it must of been late enough in the day that Aang, Toph and Katara, have already started their daily bending lessons, and only Appa remains, asleep while exhaling loud snores. Momo was probably with Aang than, he thinks. Sokka sighs loudly in equal parts exhaustion and relief, as he stands from his unusually suffocating bed role. He walks over to the small, clay basin filled with water and cups some in his palms, than splashes his face with it in hopes that after some extensive scrubbing the tear tracks he can feel staining his cheeks will lighten. Once he’s satisfied, he takes a few calming breaths and heasentently looks down at the thing causing his recurring dreams. His Soulmark. Standing in front of the basin he slowly starts to unwrap his wrists from their white cloth bindings. He then brings his right arm closer to his face and examines the dreadful mark. His fingers lightly trace over the majestic beast that encircles the joint, steadily adding more pressure in an attempt to ease the burn it causes. He recalls the conversation he had, had with his father many years ago. After asking him about the mark, Hakota had said softly to his five year old son that soulmarks represent the traits of your other half, the person who was made to complete you. The elder Water Tribe warrior continued to say that when Sokka finally found his soulmate, that the mark would turn the colour of their eyes, and until then his mark will remain a slightly darker shade of his skin, waiting for its colour. When Sokka surprised his father with the simple question of “Why?” Hakota told his little boy that the mark was a constant reminder that he was never alone. Someone was alway thinking of him.

Bunch of bullshit, Sokka thinks bitterly, I don’t need a fucking soulmate, let alone- the young tribesman halts his train of thought. No need to make himself hate the universe even more by thinking about -Him-. Oh, how he wishes to have his old blaned, brown mark back, before his life turned to shit. This was even in spite of the fact that while growing up he had been so excited to know what colour it would change too, maybe a crystal blue or fierce green. But as his luck would have it, one fateful day his life changed forever, his mark changed from matt brown to a shimmering golden/amber hue. He hates the damned thing, tries to not think about the stinging burn he constantly feels because of it. So, every night while resting in Yue’s light, he closes his eyes and attempts to push down the ever growing emptiness in his heart, a feeling that reminds him of how alone he always feels. He tries to remind himself, that he isn’t actually alone, he has Katara and their friends, as well as GranGran and dad. But he can’t seem to get over the jealousy he feels when he gets a glimps of his baby sisters grey air-bison on the inside of her elbow and when he sees Aang's ocean blue arctic fox located on his ankle. He hopes and prays the loneliness, jealousy and self disgust, will someday faid. But realistically he knows it's unlikely.

The sound of Appa huffing behind him brings him out of his daydream. Quickly he wraps his wrists again, careful to make sure no part of the golden mark shows. Than turns with a fake enthusiastic smile towards the big furry airbison.

“Hey, Appa!” he starts while petting his companions heavy fur, “Whata’, doing up? I thought you were asleep.” Unsurprisingly all he gets in return is a big yawn and a lung full of smelly bison breath.

“Haha, I know, me too buddy.” he says sympathetically, continuing his gentle petting, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. The comforting silence seems to sooth the beginnings of a headache he feels coming on.

But sadly, like all things the silence has to end sometime, and end it does, with a huge fucking bang behind him. Sokka turns sharply in the direction of the sound, which he has to admit, was a horrible idea. A blinding pain at the front of his skull is enough to almost knock him over. If it weren’t for Appa slowing his decent, Sokka is almost positive he’d be sporting a nasty bruise on his ass as well as a crippling migraine. The young warrior, once he regained his balance, remembers that they had landed in this spot because around the corner was enough land for Aang to practice some bigger earthbending moves, as well as a decent enough sized river that could be handy for some waterbending practice. “I guess it’s earthbending time then.” He mumbles under his breath. While rubbing his temples and letting out a final huff, Sokka turns back to camp and starts to compile their supplies together. It’s great to have Toph as part of the team and all but, he definitely misses not having his eardrums assaulted on a daily basis by the sounds of the earth flying around and then colliding together. Once he is done packing, and has set aside everything to be ready for hauling up on Appa, Sokka ventures to the right of camp into the surrounding bush to see if he could find any harvestable food for the journey. Hopefully today will be their last day of traveling before they arrive at the rondevu point and start to get ready for the invitation during the eclipse. After a subconscious rub of his wrist in attempt to sooth the dull burning, the teenage boy continues his search.


	2. Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko has to face the consequences for his actions, and is beating himself up about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this turned out way more angsty than I planned. I'm blaming it on the fact that I wrote it at night and was really tired. I'm still not sure how this chapter will be, or how I'm going to follow it up, but we'll see! This chapter is in Zuko's POV, and I've decided to pick back up a little later in the ATLA story line because we all know how the parts I skipped went. Now even saying this, I have taken the liberally to change some dialogue and scenarios that don't quite line up with my plot. Don't hate me, I just needed to make what appeared in cannon fit a little better into my AU. Thanks for the really nice comments last chapter, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Warning; may contain some content that could trigger some readers. If you suffer from depressive thoughts or have had experience with mental abusers please be aware these topics are briefly featured in the story BUT are not detailed at all. (The negative thoughts surround Zuko's own self hatred, and the brief abuse is in a recall of something hateful his father said to him.)

The air smells of smoke, ash, and wet rock. It feels cool and clammy against his cheeks as he turns to check the sky around him. 

He groans at the ache throughout his body. It’s been hours and his limbs still remain heavy and sore. It’s not surprising really, he not only deflected lighting, but also made the most life changing decision, and lost his only true father figure. It makes him wonder how much of the pain is in his head.

However that all pale in comparison to the sharp stinging below his collar which is so unique he’s positive his mind isn’t making it up. Someone else's sadness and disappointment is mixing with his own; muddling up his brain even more then it was not even a minute ago. He sighs and tries to fight through the fatigue surrounding his every movement.

He turns around to send another fireball into the engine of the balloon, which rises slightly before settling once again.

He looks back to the flying bison, which he has been discreetly following from a safe distance. From the creatures sluggish movements he comes to the conclusion that the bison is slowing down. 

Before the Avatar became but a speck in the distance, he had seen more companions than before aboard the giant animal. He feels a brief flash of pity for the creature; it can’t be easy to carry so many people for such a long time. 

Just as that thought crosses his mind a spike of foreign frustration courses through his chest so suddenly that it makes him grip his tunic with a gasp of pain.

He tries doing as his uncle taught him over the past couple months when these unfortunate spasms of someone else's emotion would course through him; breathe and think of love. At the time he would scoff at his uncle and storm off in a huff, but now he knows better, there's no fighting the mark. 

He closes his eyes and thinks of how it felt when his mother would wrap her arm around him and sing that lullaby that always made his nightmares subside. 

After a moment the stinging simmers down into only a slight burn. Sadly as soon as the feeling of contentment came, it was replaced with repulsion. Another sigh falls from his lips, now this feeling is familiar. He feels it every time he catches his own reflection.

After once again shooting a fireball into the furnace, albeit smaller this time, he turns back to the Avatar's animal guide to see it has almost descended fully to the ground. It doesn’t worry him too much, he knew from at least twenty minutes into his flight that the Avatar was most likely heading to the Western Air Temple. 

When the group finally lands and everyone starts to walk in the temples’ direction, he decides to find a discreet place to camp out in walking distance of the temple. He doesn't want to scare them off with the Fire Nation insignia on the balloon.

.......

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Why is he so stupid! How could he have thought that was going to work.  
What? He was going to apologize? Offer to teach the Avatar? Than all would be forgiven?! No duh, that wasn't going to work!

“You stalked and tried to capture them! You stole from them, lied and betrayed them! I’m so stupid!” he screams to himself, pulling at his messy hair. No one to hear him yell in the dark forest.

Zuko huffs and stomps his foot once more, then flops down onto the log beside his bedroll. 

He's not really surprised his plan went to shit. He made tons of serious mistakes and he doesn’t expect the Avatar’s group to forgive him that easily. But, the look on Sok- the Water Tribe boy’s face, matched with the horrible pain and anger that rushed through him, has left him feeling drained and hurt. He knows he deserves it, but he hates feeling so powerless.

All of this confusion and anger starts to bring up old, dark thoughts he hoped he was rid of.

His father was right. No one but his mother could love him, and even she left him. All his mark would bring him was pain and his so called “soulmate” would never love someone so selfish, stupid and dishonourable. 

He grabs his chest tightly, fingernails digging painfully into that dreaded mark. No doubt bringing pin-pricks of red to the surface of that brilliant blue.

Tears sting his eyes and a unwanted sob escapes from his throat. Just as he is going to give into the urge to fold into a ball and cry himself to sleep, a rustling from the trees around his campsite flare up his already agitated nerves and he sends a blast of fire along the forest floor.

The cry of pain is what brings him out of his disoriented attack.

.......p>

It’s better than nothing. That mantra plays on a loop in his head as he sits a little ways away from the others to eat his dinner. It isn't as flavorful as the typical fire nation food he is used to, but the water bender, Katara, is actually a great cook. Sadly, his quite ‘thank you’ seemed to fall on deaf ears when he was dealt the last bit of soup.

Again, he sighs heavily under his breath - which he’s noticed has been happening a lot lately. But at least his chest hasn’t been hurting as much, and the emotions flowing from…. his soulmate are getting clearer; less muffled from distance.

For the first couple of hours after he was allowed to stay, he tried to catch the attention of the Water Tribe boy through their bond, but he didn't seem to notice Zuko’s efforts. At first Zuko just thought the other boy was just really good at ignoring Zuko's emotions.

It took his everything not to outright sob when he realized that Sokka couldn’t feel him at all. The Water Tribe warrior had already made his decision than, to reject Zuko. Maybe not formally, or even entirely because the bond was obviously still there; only buried so deep in the other, that he couldn't feel Zuko’s pleas for forgiveness.

He was half way done his soup when he remembered that once when he was no older the 4 or 5, he saw his mother’s back on the rare occasion it was too hot for her to wear all the layers of her ornate royal dress. On her right shoulder blade there was mark, not a mark like the beautiful humming bird on uncle Iroh’s neck. It was in the shape of a dove for one, but a white, shiny and bumpy looking dove. After he asked why his mother’s mark was so different, she sat him down to explain the best she could.

She told him a story. Her kind hearted son had looked up at her eagerly in anticipation.

The story was of a young princess who was soulmates with a actor whom was new to her kingdom.

They had met at a gala he was performing at, and it was undeniably love at first sight. The rush of emotions from the new bond was enough to almost make the princess collapse. 

After a few months of courting, they approached the princess’ parents and told them of their plans to wed. The princess had expected a warm welcome for her betrothed, he was her soulmate after all. But the response from her parents was devastating for both the young lovers. 

Her parents told the princess that when she was born, she was promised to a prince from a neighbouring kingdom. Said kingdom had aided her’s in a time of need. They said to the couple that if they didn’t follow through on the deal, the other kingdom - which was much stronger and more powerful - would attack and take the princess’ kingdom by force. That night she made the decision to protect her kingdom and therefore her soulmate by marrying the prince she had been promised to. The young soulmates were so heartbroken that excruciating pain flooded their bond. The princess, riddled with sadness and loss from both sides of the bond, made another - but much harder - choice.

She rejected the bond. 

By doing so she could no longer feel his emotions, or the sting of separation, and her mark turned white and raised, more like a ugly scare than a beautiful tattoo. 

Zuko guesses now, that the princess never knew how that affected her soulmate.

At the time he didn’t know way his mother tucked him in that night with tears in her eyes, but when he thought of turning the beautiful wolf on his chest into a scare, it made him sick to his stomach.

He scoops the last bit of soup into his mouth with a hollow chest and wet eyes. After he is done carefully washing his bowl, he says goodnight to the group around the fire, it’s not heard over Toph's loud laughter. At least she’s feeling better, he thinks guiltily.

He turns and starts up the large staircase that leads to the far side of the temple where his room is. He opens the old wooden door of the dusty room and hums when it creeks. 

It so cold there, cold enough that his fire rises to the surface of his skin, trying to warm him from the inside out. He doesn’t mind having to sleep here, he understands why the group wants him separated from them. Truth be told he wouldn’t want to sleep near someone who sent an assassin out after him either. 

The bed roll surprisingly still smells of his room back at the palace, it makes the pit in his stomach grow uncomfortably, though he’s not sure why anymore.

He settles snugly under his thin blanket and closes his eyes. Images of smooth bronze skin and fierce blue eyes flit across the back of his eyelids. Thankfully, no one can see him rub idly at his collar bone and the coldness that now lies there. Or see the fat tears as the run down his cheeks.

........

It’s fur is so soft he thinks he could sleep right where he is, nestled closely to the beast. Contentment flows through him, he hasn’t felt this at peace in what feels like years. He tries to breath in time with his companion but the creature is in such a state of rest, it’s breaths are too long and far between for him to follow.

“I love it here, I love being with you.” he whispers quietly into the fur, as not to disturb the relaxed atmosphere, “Can I stay? I really don't want to go back.” He doesn’t expect a response but, the approving huff is ‘yes’ enough for him.

They rest in companionable silence for what seems like hours, or days, maybe even years, he can’t tell and he doesn’t really care.

But suddenly, he’s jerked out of his dreamy doze when the beast below him starts to growl, his lips pulling back to revel sharp deadly teeth. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Zuko asks frantically quickly moving off his angry wolf. His wolf is looking behind him so he turns to investigate. What he sees is sickening and the longer he looks at the dreadful scene the more his once warm resting place becomes cold and dark.

“Who are you?!” he yells at the figure standing a ways away, ice is settling in his bones, “You can’t be here, go away! You’ve ruined it!” he feels chilled tears start to drip down his rosy cheeks.

“No…. You did” the figure hisses, it’s back stays turned to Zuko, muffling it’s voice slightly.

Suddenly his wolf stops growling and starts to whimper. Zuko turns and sees his companion laying in a puddle of something white. The mysterious liquid starts to fully incase his wolf, spreading and hardening into something similar to stone. Zuko tries to run towards him, to save him, but every step he takes is just so so heavy.

“NO! Please no! Don’t take him! I can change! I’m sorry!” he’s screaming and sobs openly, tears and snot run down his face uncaring, drop from his chin to stain the dry ground below him.

“Your too late.” the figure hisses behind him. Zuko knows that by how clear the words are that the figure must be right behind him now. But the former prince can’t seem to take his eyes off of the now fully encased animal in front of him. He falls to the ground and sobs into the cold earth. 

“... I’ve … changed…. I promise.” a feeling of hollowness fills him until he feels like nothing but a shell of himself. All warmth sucked out of his being. His fire extinguished.

When he looks back down, he’s now wearing ripped Fire Nation clothes splattered with white scar like symbols. He looks back up in attempt to see the figure but it seems to have vanished. Instead his eyes settle on his wolf, or what once was his wolf. It’s no longer in cased but standing defensively, growling angrily at him. It’s sharp blue eyes piercing every fibre of his body.

“I’m sorry….” he repeats - pathetically - once more.


	3. Burning Love, Burning Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a very long time since I've updated and if anyone is even still interested, here is the next chapter! In Sokka's POV. More Angst, but I always feel like the best comfort comes from good angst ;)

His wrist has been hurting more today, a constant burn that has steadily become almost unbearable. his fingers have started to shake, and in fear of anyone noticing, Sokka decides to call it an night and sneak away to suffer in peace. However getting past his sister is another feat and as he finishes cleaning up the remainder of his untouched meal, Katara calls out to him, her tone questioning.

“Where do you think you’re going?" This catches the attention of the rest of the invasion escapees, "It’s your turn to take first watch tonight, and you didn’t even finish your food! Are you feeling okay Sokka?” She asks with her signature raised eyebrow. 

Slowly he moves his shaky hand behind his back,“U-Uhm, actually I’m not hungry and I'm feeling a bit…. Nauseous! Yeah nauseous, would one of you mind-” he gestures with his steady hand between the rag-tag group of teens looking at him, “-taking my shift tonight? I’ll pick up the slack tomorrow, promise.” Not a total lie, he think to himself, his wrist is starting to make is stomach churn.

His nervous rambling further earns him suspicious looks, (Sokka thinks they are mostly for the fact that he said he’s “Not Hungry”) but Aang quickly agrees to look out first tonight anyways, and Sokka cannot stop a sigh of relief from escaping him.

Sokka nodded in thanks and Aang and the rest of the team turns to resume their previous conversations, but in the flickering firelight, Sokka catches Katara's eye, and the concern there is undeniable.

The Water tribesman looks down to his feet as he turns in search for place to hidout until the burning stops and ignores the guilt that's bubbling up in him for lying.

…..

He walks down the windy, maze-like halls of the Airtmple quickly, searching frantically for an unlocked room, or one with the door even hanging on hinges a good distance from the bustling camp. Luckily, just as he turns another corner that looks exactly the same as the seven before, down a corridor that looks the same as the seven before, a slightly ajar door catches his eye, he stumbles toward it quickly. By now the pain of his mark is enough to throw him off balance and turn his vision blurry with tears. 

Sokka likes to pride himself on his ability to withstand pain, but never has he felt something so piercing. It feels as if he has had to cartirise a nasty wound on his wrist with the side of a heated blade.

Sokka bursts through the door to the dark room clumsily, of which is thankfully empty of both anyone alive, as well as of any bodies of the air nomads who had likely occupied this room.

He leans against the stone wall beside the wooden door and hastily closes it and pulls the lock closed with aborted, jerky movements. 

By now waves of tears run unabashedly down his flushed cheeks. He slides down the wall, which holds most of his weight now, with a pathetic whimper while cradling his burning wrist to his chest. With trembling fingers, Sokka attempts to unravel his bindings. It takes longer than he would like to admit, but when the white cloth slips to the cold floor, the cool air of the stone temple brings sweet relief to his burning flesh. After a few moments of soothing caresses from the cool air, the burning returns with a sharp sting and Sokka lets out a surprised yelp. 

Sokka sucks in deep breaths and tries to breath through the horrid sensations wrecking his body, but it only seems to get worse. It feels as if his mark is trying to pull away from his skin, reaching towards something and intent to stop at nothing until it removes itself from him and flies away. The small square window in the wall adjacent to his curled up form, allows the moonlight to bathe the room in a soft blue glow and Sokka can do nothing but stare at this soulmark in Yue’s spotlight. 

The Dragon is moving, like actually, physically swerving and swirling around his wrist, wings flapping restlessly and golden scales shimmering and glowing. 

Now, Sokka knows soulmarks are an ancient magic, unpredictable and surprising, but never in all the stories the elder teen has ever heard or read about, has a soulmark moved. 

They aren’t alive, they’re supposed to only represent or reflect your other half’s soul or personality. They are supposed to be… be nothing but reminders and symbols.

The pain is no longer the only reason Sokka’s breath is becoming shorter and shorter. This is not normal and the discomfort and fear does nothing to help the sharp pain of the creature abusing his skin.

Surprisingly, the dragon looks to be in more pain then Sokka is, curling and uncurling, opening its jaw and shaking its body in a silent cry. Somehow, Sokka knows that this tiny creature is not feeling the normal type of pain.

This pain is not the kind that you feel when you stub your toe or get a paper cut.  
This pain is not the kind of pain you get from a fever that penetrates your subconscious and molds reality into a nightmare.  
This pain is one of heartbreak and despair, loneliness and hopelessness. 

His beast is crying out in fear and desperation, and Sokka cries for it now too.

He doesn’t know how long this agony will last but eventual the world becomes black and tilts on its side. Sokka falls to the cold ground and passes out from pure exhaustion.

…..

There is running outside his room, heavy footsteps made by purposeful but frantic steps running down the hallway outside. This is what makes him crack his heavy eyelids open. His long dark eyelashes stick together in clumps as he looks at his surrounding bluriely. He tries for a few moments to ignore how his body protests his position on the stone flooring, but the need to move in inevitable.

Sokka sluggishly pulls his partially numb arms underneath himself and pushes his body from his unfortunate place of rest. As soon as he’s sitting up right, the urge to collapse is almost impossible to fight, so the tribesman lays back down gently but in a more comfortable position. 

The light through the small window is enough to tell him he’s most likely missed breakfast, but he doesn’t have it in him to care. Not even the fact that his team and friends are probably looking for him can move Sokka from his melancholic state.

It takes all his remaining energy to lift his wrist into view, the dragon seems to be back in it original place, just as still and lifeless as ever, and Sokka is confused by the feeling of disappointment at this acknowledgment.

Although rationally he may know laying here dwelling on his experience from the night prior is unhealthy and blatantly worrisome, he doesn't fight as darkness pulls him under again and Sokka in braces asleep once more. 

….

“Where is Sokka! He missed breakfast, something must be wrong! He might be sick, or hurt, or--or Kidnapped!” Katara is pacing around the camp, ranting and raving her concerns for her brother to the other benders and non-benders alike sitting around the camp, just like she has been since breakfast was called a couple of hours ago. Her fingernails have been worn short with worried biting and Toph is worried she’ll run divots into the ancient floor.

“Oh, hush princess, he just slept in. You know Sokka; anyway I can feel where meathead is in the temple, anyway. No biggy.” Toph replies from her relaxed position in the sun.

Aang puts a soothing hand on the Waterbender’s shoulder, who leans into it gratefully, and adds, “Yeah, Katara don’t worry. You know how upset Sokka was after the invasion failed, right? He just needs some alone time to work stuff out. Okay?” There is a murmuring of agreement and comforting smiles around the room.

Katara hangs her head dejectedly and sighs, “Okay.” Aang smiles and kisses her on the cheek in comfort.


End file.
